Life Among the Goldfish
by cactusnell
Summary: <html><head></head>Molly doesn't want to be a goldfish. Can Mycroft help her? Sherlolly</html>


Dr. Molly Hooper was somewhat startled by a knock at her door. It was Saturday afternoon, and she had just returned from running a few errands, things which she couldn't take care of during her rather busy work week. She was looking forward to a relaxing afternoon of popcorn and videos, and had not been expecting company. She was even more surprised when she opened her door to find Mycroft Holmes standing in her doorway holding a box of pastries and wearing a rather strained smile.

"Mycroft?"

"Forgive me, Molly. I know it's not like me to just pop in, but I have something rather important I need to discuss with you," he offered by way of explanation.

Molly had grown accustomed to his visits during the two years when Sherlock had been away. Mycroft had been kind enough to keep her informed of his younger brother's continued existence, without actually going into any details. But that had been ages ago, and his visits had all but ceased since his brother's return. But, in those days of worry, the man had always been a comfort to her. They would share tea, conversation, and fairy cakes, and Molly would always feel better after the fact. She had come to believe that Mycroft did, also. But those were troubling times, and so it was with some trepidation that Molly Hooper welcomed Mycroft Holmes into her flat once more.

A short time later the pathologist and the British government were seated at the former's kitchen table, tea and fairy cakes spread out before them. Mycroft cleared his throat, and finally began to speak. "Molly, in the past several years, your reputation in the area of pathology and forensic science has spread far and wide. This is justly deserved. You are outstanding in your field. You have had, it is my understanding, may offers from various research, educational, and medical facilities. Many offering significant increases in pay and prestige. Yet you have accepted none of these offers."

"I'm happy where I am, Mycroft. It's no mystery…"

"No, it has never been a mystery to me why you have chosen to remain where you are, Dr. Hooper. So it is with some understandable surprise that I recently was informed that you, yourself, had investigated certain employment opportunities which would involve your relocation from London, and St. Bart's, and, by some strange coincidence, my younger brother…"

"Why would the British government be concerned about…"

"The British government is not concerned, my dear. A perhaps overly protective elder brother is."

Mycroft was slightly surprised by the unexpected question which the young woman put to him. "Mycroft, tell me, do you and Sherlock really consider us all 'goldfish'?"

"Ah!", he sighed. "I see you overheard that remark. Please do not assume that I meant anything insulting or derogatory by the comparison…"

"No, indeed, why would being compared to an insignificant pet, to be disposed of when necessary by flushing it down the loo, be considered insulting?"

"Point taken, Molly. I can only apologize, and express my deep regret…"

"That I heard you? No need to apologize. I have come to realize that what you said is probably true. You, and your brother, probably do see we who are not so gifted as somewhat insignificant."

"No, please do not think that, Dr. Hooper! What you heard was simply part of an ongoing banter between brothers, and, if I am to be completely honest, a result of my own jealousy of my brother's rather late in life development of such close bonds with individuals, which I have always been loathe to call 'friends'. He has recently been rather militant in his suggestions that I should attempt to develop such relationships of my own. I suppose our visits were my own feeble attempt to …"

"Believe it or not, Mycroft Holmes, I do consider you a friend. You went out of your way to keep me informed during Sherlock's campaign to rid the world of Moriarty's minions. You could have simply texted, or emailed, or phoned. But you visited me, held my hand, figuratively if not literally. You were the only person I knew who was aware that Sherlock was alive, and you helped me bear that burden, understanding, even more than your brother, how difficult that was. I am happy to be one of your goldfish, Mycroft. It's just that I find I cannot bear to be only one of many goldfish to your damned brother!"

"Molly, I believe that you are so much more…"

"Yes, Mycroft, well, I have wanted to believe that for years now, and I find I can no longer fool myself. So, it's time for me to get out of the goldfish bowl. Time to flush myself, as it were!"

"Please promise me that you will not make a precipitous decision, Molly. Don't act too rashly…"

"Relax, Mycroft. I'm not leaving next week, or next month, even. I'm weighing my options carefully. As you pointed out before, I do have several standing offers. I'm not going to make a rash decision. But it will come. I'm ready to move on. I've got to move on!" Molly looked at the man she considered a friend, and hoped that he understood that, while she didn't in any way wish to disrupt his brother's well ordered life, she had to take this step to preserve her own sanity. "I'm counting on you to help him adjust, Mycroft. You always look after him, whether he likes it or not. He'll be angry, no doubt!" Molly snickered. "I'm sure he's lost goldfish before, but I'm sure he, himself, did the flushing! He might not be overly amenable to one of them jumping out of the bowl of their own volition!"

"As usual, Molly, you greatly underestimate yourself. Needless to say, I wish you all happiness. I'm just disappointed that you can't seem to find it where you really want it. Do not concern yourself. I will take every step necessary to manage a smooth transition to your new life. I will stay in touch, you may count on it. And I will be watching over you!"

Mycroft Holmes, the man who disdained sentiment, and, to his possible regret, had influenced his brother to do the same, seemed visibly affected by their conversation. In his middle age, he had looked over the landscape of his life and found it distinctly barren. He was content, but he was not happy. To his dismay, he found this same pattern repeating in his younger brother's life. But Sherlock was not the same as him. The younger man had made friends, several people who were important and significant in his life. Mycroft knew that one, in particular, was more than important and significant. She was certainly no goldfish, and she certainly deserved to know that. Mycroft had promised Molly that he would handle things. And handle things he would! So, armed with logic, affection, and a large helping of big brother bossiness he made his way to Baker Street to do just that.

On the following Monday morning Dr. Molly Hooper made her way down the long corridor in the basement of St. Bart's which led to her office. She had her purse slung over her shoulder and was holding a cup of steaming coffee in her left hand as she shuffled through the bag in search of her key. She entered her office, turned on the overhead light, and was surprised to find an addition to the decor. On the middle shelf on the tall bookcase located directly behind her desk was a small aquarium, complete with light, water filtration system, appropriate gravel on the bottom, and a castle towards the rear. It was lovely. Molly had had such a setup when she was a child, her father finding it relaxing to gaze at the languidly moving fish for long periods of time. She moved to examine the tank more closely, and was slightly surprised to find it populated mostly by goldfish, five to be exact. But swimming among the goldfish was a fish of a different variety. It was a glimmering silver in color, with flecks of gold, black, and brown covering its body. This fish had a beautiful lyre shaped tail, and an extravagant dorsal fin, which shimmered through the water like long hair floating on the air.

"It's a molly fish, a poecilia," a deep baritone voice came from behind her, and she turned to find Sherlock Holmes standing in the doorway.

"It's lovely, Sherlock. But why…?"

"I had a talk with my brother. Or rather, he had a talk with me. He seemed to feel it necessary that I make it clear to you that you are not now, nor have you ever been, a goldfish. You are definitely a Molly. Strong. Resilient. Beautiful…"

Molly Hooper crossed the small room and, shoving her arms under the Belstaff which he always wore, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on Sherlock's chest. It took only a second for his arms to abandon their position hanging straight at his side and make their way around her shoulders, and stay there. After a few moments of silence, Sherlock finally spoke, "Dr. Hooper, do your think a lengthy embrace is entirely appropriate in a place of business?"

"Probably not."

"Do you intend to let go anytime soon, then?"

"Probably not!" Molly sighed, and nestled her head on his chest even more closely. Then she spoke again, "I'm sorry. I know you don't approve of PDA's…"

"What?"

"PDA's. Public displays of affection. But I am finding it rather difficult to let go…"

"As am I, Molly, but…" Just then Sherlock's mobile indicated an incoming call. "Ah, saved by the proverbial bell. Or ringtone." He held the phone to his ear. "Yes, Graham. I can come. See you there."

Molly finally disengaged, but stayed close. "Business?"

"Yes. But we will continue this later, right?"

"Count on it, Mr. Holmes," Molly said with a smile as she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Sherlock smiled briefly, and turned on his heel to leave.

A few moments later Molly was sitting in her desk chair, having swiveled it around to face the bookcase, and was studying her newly acquired pets. Five goldfish. John, Mary, their daughter Claire, Mrs. Hudson, and DI Lestrade. She was examining the fish closely, assigning their names with care. And only one Molly. She couldn't stop smiling, and was still smiling when her mobile signalled a text message.

WHILE I MAY NOT APPROVE OF PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION, I AM DEFINITELY IN FAVOR OF PRIVATE ONES. PLEASE JOIN ME FOR DINNER AT BAKER ST THIS EVENING - SHERLOCK

Molly's smile grew even larger, if possible. Then another text!

PLEASE BE PREPARED TO SPEND THE NIGHT, AS I PLAN TO BE EXTREMELY AFFECTIONATE! - SHERLOCK

She had no idea what Mycroft had said to his brother, but she must remember to thank him. Profusely!


End file.
